


whole lotta love

by Skyson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, First Time, Light Angst, Making Out, Music, Sex, Sex on a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8326579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: The Zephyr is headed on a new course, and music is blasting from the hangar bay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not really a deep and introspective view of Daisy's return. It's just me wanting them to have sort-of make-up sex.
> 
> Also, Led Zeppelin came on the radio as I was on my way home today. :}

Opening the door that led to the hangar bay, the thrumming bass reached her first, rather distinguishable as it bounced along the metal walls of the plane. She glanced back to see Mack grimace, uncomfortable with the loud music for some reason. She'd heard him listening to music in the garage before, so she wasn't entirely sure why he was making that face now. Maybe it was weird to him that Coulson occasionally listened to loud music, too.

She sent him a small apologetic look and slipped through, closing the heavy door behind her. It probably didn't shut out all the noise, because the music was _that_  loud, but it helped a great deal.

The electric guitar joined in, confirming to her that this was Led Zeppelin, and she hung back on the balcony for a moment. Maybe the choice in song was what made Mack uncomfortable. She found herself smirking just a little bit, and bit her lip to hide it.

Not like Coulson had noticed the company, yet; he was elbow deep into the engine compartment of Lola, his back moving just slightly as he bobbed to the music. Daisy quietly - she wasn't sneaking, she swears - walked down the steps, sitting down on the last one and carefully resting her sling atop her bent knee.

At least that didn't hurt anymore.

She tilted her head to the side as she watched him straighten up, propping a hand on his hip as he looked down into the car. Something must've been frustrating him, though she couldn't exactly tell since she couldn't see his face.

He'd shed the jacket he'd been wearing, and the button-up shirt, in favor of a white tee paired with his dark jeans. He'd changed his shoes, too; now he wore a pair of beat-up sneakers that made her frown a little. She didn't even recall him owning sneakers, much less wearing them often enough to wear them out like that.

Then again, she had been gone for quite a few months. Maybe he took up basketball in his free time away from being the Director.

She snorted.

He didn't hear her, continuing to subconsciously bounce a little to the music as he turned and started digging through the standing tool box to his right. Honestly, she was a bit surprised he could even hear himself think with how loud the music was. Maybe that was the point.

The first music interlude started, and Coulson tapped his fingers against the edge of the tool box along to the drums. Then the classic Robert Plant grunting began, and suddenly she felt awkward, like she was intruding when she shouldn't. Coulson moved his hips a little more than he had been, and Daisy raised her eyebrows.

Interesting. He was rather good at that.

The guitar jumped in strong again, and he leisurely rocked his head back and forth, finding the tool he'd been looking for and returning to the car. He moved more loosely and languidly than she would have expected, though he kept up with the beat of the song. She couldn't tear her eyes off of him. He was completely familiar to her, yet he was also a stranger. This version of him that she was seeing right now seemed brand new to her, and she wasn't sure if that was because he'd changed, or she just couldn't remember the days before...before.

She sat there for another few minutes, through another upbeat song, something about good times and bad times. Coulson seemed to enjoy that one, as well, and she could have sworn she caught him singing along a couple times. She knew there was no way she could announce herself _without_  startling him, so she figured she'd wait until the end of this song.

She was kind of surprised he hadn't turned around yet, hadn't noticed the weight of her unwavering gaze, but perhaps he hadn't expected anyone else to bother him down here.

Maybe _that's_  why Mack seemed so disturbed. Was this one of Coulson's things, now? He cranked classic rock and worked on his car?

She had to admit, it was kind of hot.

The song faded out, and she got to her feet, swallowing down the nervousness that threatened to rise up her throat.

Soft strums of guitar started, and Coulson hesitated, and Daisy hesitated in return. He carefully set the wrench on top of the engine, and propped his hands on the bumper of the car, his head dropping down. Stairway to Heaven apparently made him quite sad, and she wondered why. She watched for a few more moments, but he just stood there like that, looking rather defeated from this angle.

"Coulson?" She spoke up carefully, during a beat of silence in the song, and as expected he jumped in surprise. Luckily he didn't hit his head on the raised hood as he quickly spun around to face her.

She saw his shocked eyes first, and then the swipe of grease on his chin. His tee-shirt had a black SHIELD logo on it, a logo she didn't exactly recognize. The Director must have changed quite a few things.

"Daisy." He breathed, as if he were seeing her for the first time again. He looked so relieved, for just a second, but then his face blanked and he straightened his shoulders, wiping his hands across the front of his shirt.

(She couldn't help but follow the movement, a bit surprised that he didn't care about getting grease and grime all over his shirt, but also at the way it pulled across his surprisingly taut frame. Damn, has he always looked like that?)

"Hey." She replied softly.

They stood there, looking at one another, as the guitar sped up a bit. Growing too nervous to hide it, again, Daisy shifted her feet slightly. His eyes changed, just for a moment, almost too quickly for her to catch. But she did, she caught how they dimmed a little, the outside corners shifting with sadness.

She'd really improved picking up on people's facial expressions. It was the quickest way to tell if they were hiding something, or lying.

"What do you need?" He wondered not unkindly, at the same time as she asked,

"How's Lola?"

The music filled another moment of silence, and Coulson's shoulders relaxed finally.

"She's great," His pride shone through, and it was as if he couldn't resist when he reached back to pat the car's bumper fondly. "She still can't fly, yet, but other than that...she's getting better every day."

"You work on her a lot, then?" Daisy asked, and he looked frustrated at himself, like he just let slip something he hadn't wanted to. He shrugged, a gesture of meaning that Daisy didn't believe at all. "Led Zeppelin?" She nodded toward the speakers on the table by the wall, and Coulson shifted toward it.

"Sorry," He started, and she shook her head, quickly interrupting,

"No, don't." He stopped immediately of course, turning back toward her. "I like Led Zeppelin."

His eyes did that thing where they almost smiled, but his lips did that thing where they turned downward and he looked like he was struggling to hold back tears.

"Coulson," She warned, frowning as well, her chest feeling tight as she tamped down her own emotion threatening to spill. He nodded, understanding, and turned back toward Lola's engine compartment for a moment. She could tell by the rise of his shoulders that he inhaled deeply, held it, and then let it out slowly.

She stepped closer to him, within arms reach now, knowing that she wasn't going to be able to keep her hands off of him forever. As much as she didn't want to admit it even to herself, she missed him too damned much.

_Your head humming and it won't go, in case you don't know_

(No shit, Plant.)

"Phil," She whispered, her free hand the one closest to him, giving her the ability to touch his arm. The music started getting louder as the other instruments joined in, but that didn't matter anymore because she didn't have anything else to tell him. (Well, she did, but she didn't have the words for it at the moment.)

He turned toward her, a bit surprised by her proximity, but immediately shifted his whole body to face her and opened his arms, as if he could tell just by the expression on her face what she was requesting. He was careful with her sling, not holding her against him too hard, but she didn't care about that, and she squeezed her other arm around his waist tightly, pressing her cheek atop his shoulder.

Just when she felt him relax in the embrace, he gently pushed her back away. He was shaking his head a little, not quite looking at her, and she carefully threaded her fingers through his.

"Coulson, I know I hurt you." She said, and he shook his head more vehemently, and she squeezed his hand a little tighter. "I know I did." She repeated. "And I know you're just going to say that you're happy I'm safe,"

"I _am_  happy you're,"

"But you're still hurt, Coulson, because you care about me." She continued. He met her gaze, finally, his expression an argumentative one, but his lips closed tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I hurt you but I'm not sorry that I left."

He grimaced, looking away again, but his eyes softening further as he struggled to keep his Agent mask on.

"I avoided you the most because I knew that I couldn't have stayed away otherwise." She added, and his brow furrowed, and he almost looked back toward her. "Because I care about you, too."

He dropped his head, looking toward their feet for a moment, before lifting it and meeting her eyes again.

"It...hurts," He admitted, "but I could never hate you, Daisy. Never." He lifted a hand and brushed a stray hair behind her ear, as if he couldn't help himself.

The same fondness that he gave toward his beloved car.

The heavy guitar solo began, the noise suddenly loud and noticeable again, cutting into their moment. It jolted her, and him too, and she found herself looking him in the eyes more directly than she had in a long, long time.

(Had his eyes always been that colour blue?)

His mask had completely fallen away, at this point, and she raised her hand to press her palm against his cheek. It was already starting to get a little scruffy, reminding her of what a long day it had been. (Getting shot and seeking out Jemma felt like days ago.)

She stepped closer to him, her arm trapped between them once again and once again she didn't care. She could feel the way Coulson held his breath, and see the flash of confusion in his eyes as she lifted her chin slightly.

"Daisy?" He questioned quietly, and her tongue darted out nervously, wetting her lips. His eyes dropped to follow the movement, the shade of blue darkening slightly, his hand still resting against her shoulder.

She paused her forward movement, and brushed her thumb against the corner of his mouth, silently asking him permission. His lips parted, and he seemed completely surprised for a moment, before swallowing and opening his mouth again.

She closed the space between them then, before he could say something else. She kissed him urgently, trying to put forth everything she wanted to tell him in this one gesture.

He was frozen against her, for a beat, until her hand slipped around the back of his neck and her nails scraped through his hair. Then he hummed something indistinguishable against her lips, opening his mouth wider and slanting his head to deepen the kiss.

Led Zeppelin was forgotten as he turned to rest his hips against Lola's bumper, Daisy standing between his knees, leaning against him almost entirely. Running out of breath, they began to break the kiss into multiple ones, trying to speak in the short breaths between.

"We really should talk," Coulson, though he was having just as much trouble keeping his mouth off of her skin as she was to him,

"Definitely," She agreed, her hand smoothing across his collarbone and fingers dancing across his chest. He was somehow solid and soft at the same time, and it made her whimper with want, made her wonder why she'd never done this before, made her want to cuddle him for hours but also fuck his brains out.

"Oh," He released a breath against the side of her head as she molded her palm around his hip, her thumb pressing low against his abdomen. That sound, coupled with the hand tangled in her hair and the other hand firm on her waist, made every nerve in her body feel like it was about to explode. She was literally thrumming with her desire for him, and the love in her heart for him only expounded that.

"I can't," She gasped, and he immediately stilled, his hands shifted to her jaw to tilt her face where he could show her the concerned look he was sporting. She frowned at him for having stopped kissing her, and frowned at herself for her inability to form words correctly in the moment, and scrambled her fingers atop his belt. "I need," She stopped, her fingers trembling too much for her to do this one handed, and he gently grasped her hands within his own.

"Daisy, we don't,"

"I love you, you fucking idiot!" She huffed, angrily; luckily the loud (and different) Zeppelin song drowning her out from anyone else possibly hearing her. He stared at her, completely floored, and affronted, by her words. "You're too," she frowned, sliding her hand up underneath the front of his shirt, making him jump, "damn," she slid her hand low around his back, discovering the curve of muscle purely by touch, "decent!" She shifted her hips pointedly against his, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Do you want me to be pissed off at you?" He wondered, completely distracted by her hand that has found its way back to his chest, her thumb brushing across his nipple.

"I want you to be..." She trailed off, breathing through her nose a few times as she tried to stave off the intensity of her feelings for him. "I want you." She finished decidedly. Looking back up into his eyes, she saw the darkened gaze and the desire behind it, and they leaned in at the same time, kissing one another fervently.

He was careful with her and her injuries, but firm enough that his touch only increased her arousal. They didn't even bother undressing; he supported her injured side in a manner that only he would understand how to do, all while focusing on familiarizing his tongue with the inside of her mouth, and his hands with her body.

Impatient, she reached back to grasp his hand in her own and clamp his palm overtop her ass, her own hand returning to his waist as she rocked her hips against his again.

He breathed heavily, possibly just as worked up as she was, and squeezed her butt as he shifted in counterpoint to her.

She moaned quietly, letting it linger long enough that he held her even tighter against him, and their rocking ended up jarring the wrench off of its perch atop the engine. It clattered between the spaces and onto the floor, but neither of them stopped or even slowed down.

His jeans didn't do much to hide his prominent hard-on, and her own were starting to feel a bit uncomfortably wet, but his body against hers felt so worth it. She was sure he couldn't be exactly comfortable with his pants still done up as well, but he wasn't complaining either.

He dropped his head, nosing away the collar of her shirt and sucking at the curve of her neck and shoulder. She felt his brow furrow against her skin, and realized that he was grunting quietly, trying to hide the noise.

"Fuck, Coulson, yes," She encouraged, vaguely wondering how it was even possible that she could be more turned on than she already was.

"Daisy," He gasped against her ear, his cheek pressed against hers now.

They humped against Lola's bumper until they both came, D'yer Mak'er blocking any too-loud noises they may have made.

She could tell that he was leaning a bit more heavily onto his car, and she was pretty much putting all of her weight against him, but she really didn't want to move right in this second. He trailed his hand leisurely up and down her back, almost like he wasn't even really thinking about it. When she finally lifted her head from his shoulder, he met her gaze and his tongue darted across his lips. His face was flushed, his forehead just starting to glisten with sweat, as he tried to catch his breath. She grinned a little, unsure, but his eyes were light and happy and a smile was forming across his face as well. Her smile widened, and they both chuckled breathlessly.

"We still do need to have that talk, you know." He suggested with a slightly raised eyebrow, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Definitely." She agreed, glancing at his lips. His smile turned into a smirk, and she tilted forward to kiss him again, softer and a bit calmer this time.

"Maybe, uh," He gently pushed her back, and she supported her own weight and stepped away to give him room to stand as well. "Maybe we should turn off Led Zeppelin now."

Daisy laughed a bit, and he looked surprised, but then he smiled widely, and touched a lingering kiss against her forehead before moving toward the speakers and turning them down and off.

The silence in the garage was jarring.

"Uh," Daisy stared at his crotch with a pointedly raised eyebrow, and he glanced down. "We should probably wait a bit before going upstairs, huh?"

His ears turned a shade of red as he tried to readjust the rather obvious bulge in his pants, wincing a bit.

"At least my jeans are dark?" He mused, and she pulled her lips between her teeth as she tried not to smile. "I need to, uh, find that wrench, anyhow."

As when she had first entered the garage, they stood there staring at one another for a moment.

"I'll meet you upstairs? I'll make some coffee, and we can have that talk." She suggested quietly, and he nodded, reaching for her one more time.

They kissed again, and she couldn't deny the love and desire she felt from him in that gesture. She brushed her thumb against his bottom lip as they parted, offering him one more careful smile before she turned and headed back up the steps.

She glanced over her shoulder, catching him looking, and he ducked his head, turning away to hide his embarrassment at getting caught.

Standing in front of the closed door that led to the interior of the plane, she shifted her shoulders and schooled her features. No sense in walking in and revealing to everyone else just how quickly they'd come to forgive one another.

Come to... She snorted at herself before schooling her features again.

(Get a grip, girl. There's still a long road to walk, yet.)

(But at least she won't be walking it alone, anymore.)

She smiled to herself, and opened the door.


End file.
